Through a Fog of Egos
by TurtleTracer
Summary: Determined to take his role as a Chat Noir more seriously Adrien comes up with an ingenious new plan on how to get one step closer to catching Hawkmoth, but can a plan involving Chloe Bourgeois help turn anyone into a better hero?
1. Chapter 1- Maman

**Warning season two spoilers up to Reverser.**

 **A lot will be happening in this fic. So enjoy and tell me what you think.**

 **Through a Fog of Egos**

Chapter One- Maman

"I can walk maman," Adrien said as he kicked his little feet back and forth. His expensive one hundred and seventy euro tennis shoes hit his mom gently with each swing.

Emilie smiled down at the boy in her arms, but her tone was still firm when she answered, "No, it isn't safe yet Adrien. Wait till we get to the park." Little four-year-old Adrien huffed, but obediently laid his head down against his mother's thin shoulder. From this angle he could peek over his maman's back and watch as their three giant body guards followed at his mother's heels. They were so big, but Adrien had gotten used to their presence. They were always around. They were the good guys, even if they weren't allowed to talk to him and that was scary sometimes.

Adrien heard the sounds of the park before he could see the play equipment from behind the park's tall bushes. He began to kick again, this time in excitement. A childish _sqeeee_ pierced the air around his maman's ear in his glee. His mother took it like a champ. "Calm down now Adrien," She gently chided. Adrien clamped two hands over his giggling mouth, but the woman could still feel her child vibrating with happiness in her arms.

He knew he was being bad, and that daddy would hear about it later. But he couldn't help it! His mother never took him to the park, she never took him anywhere! Never ever anywhere.

Mother and son turned the corner into the park. It wasn't as big as some of the parks that he's seen through his limousine window. But boy was it colorful. The equipment had blues, and oranges, and reds, and greens. The medal bits twisted and curved about each other, with slides and monkey bars hidden haphazardly within the decorative metal maze.

His mother took her way-to-long-adult-time walking the two of them over to the edge of the sand pit that surrounded the play equipment. With one last smile she set Adrien down, his feet were running through the air before his shoes could touch the sand. He shot off like a child on a mission, away from his mother. Emilie took a big steadying breath and made her way to the closest park bench.

Emilie Agreste watched her little boy from the bench, poised and full of smiles, just like she always looked in public. She was the perfect image of Gabriel Agreste's beautiful, intelligent, if slightly bashful, wife.

Or that is, that's what Emilie saw herself as. The guards posted, one on either side of her bench, glanced at each other knowingly, and sadly. Between them Emilie kept her back straight and limbs still, until she began to twist and fiddle her hair, but only for a moment before she gracefully guided her hands back into their position upon her lap. She would last another thirty seconds before having to repeat the motion again. The movement looked so controlled and precise that it left the action looking purposefully delicate, and impossible to take seriously, never less gracefully.

Her eyes were a wide green, and they never left her little boy as he raced around, trying every equipment on the playground once, marveled by its newness, before racing around the thing a few times in his uncontrollable excitement.

Emilie looked at her feminine gilded watch about her wrist, 4:10. It's been five minutes. She slowly lowered her hand back down. Her body jerked as a small _clonk_ was heard ahead of her, she snapped her eyes to Adrien and saw him rubbing his forehead with a vengeous, while a taller chubbier child did the same thing around the corner of the equipment. Adrien must have run into the boy during one of his laps.

Emilie was up quickly, forgetting for a moment to move gracefully. That boy was bigger than her son, he could hurt him, hurt her baby.

A grin split Adrien's face. He shouted an apology right in the boy's ear, and the boy mumbled a subdued ' _It's ok,'_ in the face of his blond peer's enthusiasm. Emilie's face fell.

Adrien gripped his new friend's arm and talked about playing soccer, he bounced about in his excitement, making the chubby boy giggle as his arm was shaken against his will. Emilie sat back down.

Little Adrien ran back to his big bodyguard friend and asked for his soccer ball. Never dropping his stern demeanor the bodyguard presented the child his toy. Adrien ran back to his friend and together the two of them ran to the more open area of the grass field.

Emilie's right leg began to jump up and down in tiny little hops. Her embroidered flats kept the motion silent as her shoes moved about the concrete.

Adrien screamed, but he also screeched and yelled and laughed. He was louder than any other child, with less appropriateness than any child should shout. And as the ball was kicked about seemingly aimlessly, Adrien's new friend joined him.

Emilie checked her watch.

The boy was faster than Adrien, though he would give up on getting to the ball faster than her child would. It became of game of who was closer to the ball, and who had enough balance to push the other one off his feet before he got to the prize.

Emilie's arms wrapped about her stomach.

After a particularly off balanced kick by Adrien's friend, the ball went skywards. Both boys screeched delighted cries of _'I got it!'_ as they stumbled about the general area the ball would land. Teetering over his friend's sneakers, Adrien fell. Emilie gasped.

His friend, oblivious to the fall and the small _'oof,'_ that came out of Adrien's mouth, repeated another _'I got it,'_ and promptly tripped over his new buddy, landing his bigger body on top of Adrien's smaller form, almost hiding the blond child from view with his mass. The ball landed a few feet above both of the fallen boy's heads. Adrien looked up dazed from his downed spot. His new friend looked back, eyes wide. They began to laugh. Oh Adrien laughed first, but it was contagious, and his friend followed. They rolled themselves off of each other, his friend already inching his way back towards their ball.

Emilie stood up. On shaking legs she slowly made her way over to her son. Her bodyguards followed her, in their own silent cloud of knowing inevitability. Emilie's breathing was harsh, and her heart hurt, but she did not move fast, she would move with grace, even now. Other parents eyed her as she paced. No one saw any grace.

"Adrien honey, come here," Emilie said to her child. Adrien froze, as did his friend who was about to attempt kicking the ball towards Adrien, in an actual straight line this time he was certain. Emilie bent down onto her haunches, "Come here Adrien," She said again. Shuffling his feet and clearly suspicious Adrien looked to his friend, then to his ball, before coming to some sort of conclusion and walking towards his mommy. Emilie smiled sweetly, "Could you bring your ball honey."

Adrien froze, his face twisting in childish grief at the implications. Emilie smiled brighter, feeling sorry for crushing her son's hopes that if the ball stayed here, than he would to.

Like she ever cared about a ball, she'd buy him more.

Moister began to fill his bright green eyes, one hiccupped sob came out, then another. Tears dribbled down the boy's face. Startled Adrien's new friend jumped into action, going for the automatic state of offering comfort in the form of a toy by picking up the soccer ball and running over to bump it against his new blond friend's chest.

Emilie never lost her smile. She simply stood and walked over to her son. Adrien's hands flew to his face, his pale complexion growing red in his distress. "No!" He finally shouted at her between his sobs, "It's not time yet, I know so, its _hic_ , no time yet. I don't want to go h _oooo_ me."

Feeling calm now that she had a plan Emilie made a swiping motion with her hand and one of the body guards marched forward to the chubby child, the child became white and shaky as this large man approached him. From the corner of her eye Emilie saw an equally chubby man rise from his place on his own bench, no doubt the father. The bodyguard gently took the ball from the boy's unresisting hands and stepped back. That didn't stop the boy's father from making his own way to the scene. Eyeing the father's approach warily, Emilie _gracefully_ harshly picked up her son. Adrien screamed his outrage, "You promised!" He yelled at her "You promised one hour, you promised!"

"Adrien hush now," she told him sternly, gripping his leg tightly before he could start kicking her in his anger. "Hush right now or you will never be going to the park again, do you understand me?"

Adrien hushed, only letting out little groans of despair, he rubbed his teary face harshly in his anger, being too young to know what to do with his rage and having no other way of letting it out. Once in a while he whispered a small broken, "You promised," before being silenced by his mother's glare.

Behind the party of mother, boy, and guards, the chubby boy's father had made it to his son. Bending down to better meet his son's confused eyes, and hear his confused questions.

Adrien was confused to, so confused, and mad at his mommy, and mad at himself, and not knowing why his mom never let him stay even though she promises. He didn't understand. He was confused, he looked up at his mommy, she kept her gaze steadily ahead. With one last sniff, and giving into his confusion on whom to be mad at and why, Adrien submissively laid his head against his mommies' shoulder in post crying exhaustion. Emilie patted his back encouragingly, and Adrien rubbed his face into her shirt, allowing her to comfort him.

They made it home much faster than they had made it to the park. Emilie held Adrien the whole way, even as her skinny arms shook from the strain. Dismissing the guards at the gate, she walked them both up the steps of their mansion. Gabriel Agreste, her husband, opened the door before she could touch the knob.

"Welcome home," he said blank faced and emotionless. Emilie smiled at her husband, loving him for his oddities, and not asking things a normal husband would ask like _'why are you back so early?'_

Gabriel didn't need to ask, he already knew, he hadn't liked the idea of the park anyways. "We're back," Emilie smiled, Adrien lifted his little tear stained face to look at his father, pouting his lip low in silent communication of his feelings.

Ignoring their son Gabriel and Emilie embraced. With little Adrien nestled easily between them. Adrien leaned his head against his father's chest, resting himself against his dad while his mom carried him. Still leaning against his father Adrien turned his head so he could look outside, at the trees, the breeze, the backs of the bodyguards, and the gate. He kept looking out from the circle of his parent's arms as his father lazily closed the front door.

Adrien never admitted it to anyone, never told a soul, but he always wished he had kicked and screamed more in the park that day. It was a vindictive feeling of petty revenge, and he felt guilty for the little evil wish. Or perhaps he simply wished he had a good reason to give himself, for why his mother never took him to another park again.

* * *

Ten years later Adrien Agreste opens his eyes calmly, looking out blank faced at the newly created space in his room. He had moved his couch, TV, desk, piano, foosball table, rock climbing equipment, and arcade machine to one corner, leaving an open space of possibilities. "And here today Adrien Agreste will attempt what has never been done before on this floor. A Triple-Twisting Double Layout," Adrien whispers to himself in the voice of a monotone golf announcer. He takes a running stance, "Truly if he succeeds this, it will be history in the making," Adrien bends lower, "and here's the dismount."

" _Whoooo_ gooo Adrien!" shouts a tiny high pitched nasally voice from inside the laundry basket, a basket which was also pushed into the corner. Spurred by the noise Adrien does a sort of have half-run, half-stumble, as his mind refuses to commit to one action. His arms windmill stupidly as he uses them to stop himself from face-planting.

"Plagg!" Adrien whines, "You have to stay silent or you'll mess me up."

Plagg snorts through a face full of dirty Adrien sock, "Oh please who cares, you're already cheating with your super powers."

Adrien's smile widens, "Oh this'll still be cool, you'll see, besides this is ten times harder without the suit."

Plagg shrugs, "Just showing a little support."

Adrien's green eyes roll.

Starting over Adrien closes his eyes and focuses. One deep breath later and he was off, momentum moving him into a front handstand, then twisting into a back handstand by the next flip around. Another up then down. And another. Then the launch off with a twist. Keeping his body straight and his arms crossed over his chest, Adrien spins about in the air. He lands with a harsh bang upon his mat, knees only just bent, hands already up to pose to the crowd. Just for good measure he widens his legs and poses again. Perfect.

" _Hahah_!" He shouts, "Perfect finish, and the Plagg goes wild!"

Ears twitching and hearing his queue Plagg flies upwards giving his own shouted " _Hoozah_!" and throwing his tiny armful of three socks atop Adrien's head like flowers. One lands in his hair, Adrien sputters as the toe of the wool gets into his smiling mouth. With a flick of his hair Adrien gets the thing off his head, only for Plagg to take the socks place. Laughing, the little god rolls his body around in the boy's hair.

Adrien joins him, in the laughing of course, he can't roll in his own hair. "That was perfect Plagg."

"I'm always perfect," Plagg replies automatically. With a self-satisfied _purr_ Plagg starts kneading his paws through Adrien's silky fine hair. Adrien snorts and moves back to his pile of stuff in the upper left corner of his room, mentally planning his strategy of what item to move back first.

Plagg continues to knead and fuzz up Adrien's hair, knowing that Adrien will ignore him. Messing up his kitten's hair is one of his favorite things to do. It's his favorite because Adrien doesn't care. It's hilarious to Plagg, this sleek haired model child truly doesn't care, he never has. Yet none of the humans seem to know just how little shits the kid really gives. But Plagg knows, so he messes up Adrien's hair, with the sad knowledge that it will be fixed before his kitten goes out in public, public being anywhere his father could potentially learn about his state of shag, which is basically everywhere.

Keeping flats under the legs of the piano so as to not damage his floors, and taking advantage of some convenient superhero strength, Adrien finishes returning the instrument to its prier location. He's about to start preparing his foosball table for movement when Natalie knocks twice and opens his door. Plagg hides behind his kitten. "Adrien," Is all she says but Adrien sees more. He sees how her nose wrinkles in distaste at the state of his room, his hair, and his loose fitted mismatched workout clothes.

Oops.

Blank eyed, Natalie continues her purpose, "Once you are presentable your Pѐre would like to see you in his study."

Adrien nods to the back of Natalie's head as she exits the room. " _Aw_ man, think she's mad at me Plagg?"

Plagg rolls his eyes from his spot floating just above Adrien's shoulder, "Who cares, she's always a stick in the mud."

Adrien chuckles a little, "Yeah I guess so." Adrien makes his way to his closet to change.

Plagg watches him dress for a moment, glade that his chosen has finally gotten over the initial embarrassment of having an almighty god watching you change clothes. It was annoying to try and pay attention to not seeing the human naked. "Sooooo," Plagg begins, "What do you think your Pѐre wants?"

Adrien shrugs unworried, an unusual response. Normally seeing his father unannounced causes his kitten so much anxiety. "I'm sure it's nothing bad. Things have been looking up Plagg," Adrien tells him as he attempts to find a matching pair of socks that Plagg hadn't gotten his paws on yet.

" _Oooh_ yeah?" Plagg questions.

Adrien gives his kwami a smile, "Yeah." He finds some socks. "Haven't you noticed? My Pѐre is getting healthier. He played piano with me, and watched that movie with me. Even after I snuck out! Sure he insisted on Natalie checking in on me for every piano lesson after that, but I did kind of deserve it. Anyways the point is that he is getting better, this is what I've wanted since maman disappeared, and it's finally happening," Adrien exits his closet, now in his usual stylish Gabriel brand clothing. "In fact this is the perfect time to ask him about those changes I've been telling you about. It's time that I take my job as Chat Noir more seriously. Besides I'm feeling lucky today, that Akuma this morning was so easy Ladybug and I could have beaten him with one claw tied behind my back."

He cups his hand, waiting for Plagg to accept his invitation and land on his palms, Plagg accepts. "Things are looking up Plagg," says Adrien, "I can feel it."

* * *

Slick black Bolvaint shoes squeak, and tight butt wrapping red jeans grip Gabriel Agreste as he releases his transformation. A small purple form tumbles through the air, falling down to the man's calf, before catching himself with his butterfly wings and rising back up to his master's eye level.

His master's fury was something beyond anger, Norro the butterfly kwami watches as Gabriel's teeth clench, his eyes widen pointlessly for they look at nothing. Those were normal behaviors for the angry though. Humans ruin their teeth and waste their eyesight when they are angry all the time. It isn't his body language that is different, it's his mind, Nooroo could tell, he is inside that mind daily.

This man is slipping. Before he was banana peel slipped, by this point he's oil spilled in traffic slipped. Nooroo rubs his arm-numbs together nervously.

"Nooroo," Gabriel growls turning to his kwami, "what is this? Why is this all that I can do, why am I not getting stronger? Are you telling me that after all this time I am cursed to only grow weaker? To only have pathetic cannon-fodder to present to my enemies!" The man is yelling now, marching up to Nooroo.

The little butterfly buzzes away fearfully, ever keeping a neutral distance between himself and this man, "N-no master, it isn't like that. Or, I don't know. Perhaps Chat Noir and Ladybug are simply getting stronger, more comfortable with their powers."

"With that logic, so should I," Gabriel counters. Nooroo's back hits the wall. "Look at them Nooro," Gabriel hisses holding his phone up for his Kwami to see a play through of the last battle that was caught on tape for the Ladyblog. "They are faulty in everything they do!" Gabriel continues, "The boy wields his staff like a sword, and the girl's knowledge of fighting seems to come from how many flips or throws she can do." Gabriel breaths in deep, attempting to calm himself as he watches his own Akuma fight more dismally than both heroes combine. "This won't do," Gabriel declares, stuffing his phone back into his jacket pocket. "This randomization is not working. I need to manipulate this power I have, I need to control it. I need more efficient allies." Gabriel never stops walking towards the elevator to his office as he speaks. Nor does he bother turning around as he demands his Kwami to follow. Quivering, a tiny purple god hurries to obey.

Gabriel's phone rings on the ride up in the elevator, startling the man. Nooroo covers his mouth to hide his giggle. With a grumpy _hmph_ , Gabriel answers.

"Gabriel Agreste speaking."

"It's Natalie Mr. Agreste, I have just been informed that..."

Nooroo stops listening after that, more content to lick his antennas till they shine, they taste like honey today.

"My son did what!" Gabriel yells, this time it was Nooro's turn to jump. "Oil, oil, oil," Nooroo murmurs, "This man is oil."


	2. Chapter 2- Pѐre

**The season two finale was fantastic! I hope everyone enjoyed it, though it will have little to do with this story.**

 **Now I've read a lot of stories on here that involve Adrien's mom, and except for the hilariously written story "Of Hidden Doors and Secret Elevators," by quicksilversquared, she is normally portrayed as a kind woman. Perhaps not perfect, but she was a good mother. I love these stories, and Adrien clearly looks back on her with fondness, so that is likely true. However something is still wrong here. In the Christmas special it reveals that Adrien only lost his mother recently, yet he still talks of his childhood with sadness. With comments about him not going to the movies with his friends, or not being allowed out of the house, except to see Chloe. Something just doesn't seem... right.**

 **Now I doubt that the show will ever comment on this, and I don't mind that. This is just one of the many takes of what Mrs. Agreste could be like.**

 **I don't mind making these assumptions. I've never understood the need to stick with cannon too closely. Not that I think that this fic's characters will deviate from it to much, it's just that, something I admire about fan-fiction are the ways that characters are changed and explored. Their are limits to this character difference of course. For no matter what minor changes are made I still enjoy realistic characters, or if not realistic than at least simply enjoyable characters. That's the most important thing. To be clear when I say realistic I don't mean piling a character up with flaws to make them more 'relatable.' Despite what my version of Emilie may suggest.**

 **Well that's my little rant for today. I plan on practicing with tense and style during this story, hopefully everything works out.** **Please enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Chapter two- Pѐre

Six days earlier in the dark of night he smelled her on the winds… That sounded weird out of context, or maybe it still does in context. Either way Adrien twitched his sensitive cat nose and staff vaulted off his roof and unto the lower roof, where she was patiently waiting for him in all her polka-dotted big bootied glory.

"Bad hormones," Chat Noir hissed darkly under his breath. She turned at his familiar cat hiss.

"Awesome you're here, thanks for coming Chat," Ladybug said all smirking smiles, "What are you hissing at? Did a dog c-a-t-ch your eye?"

Chat squirmed in wiggly youthful delight. She kept doing that, kept making him love her more.

"Nope, no dog or _b-u-t-t-erflys_ in sight M'lady," Chat Noir smiled dreamily.

Ladybug cocked her head to the side, having to think for a moment and remember her studies, "Uh why did you just use the English word for butterfly?"

Two green cat eyes widened and looked suspiciously to the side, " _Heh heh_ , did I, well I've just been studying real hard for my English lessons lately. Must've slipped."

"Oh."

Chat spun his staff and returned it to his belt. He needed to salvage the situation. "Yes well, sorry it took me so long M'lady. It was just so dark out, but now that you're here my night has been s-p-o-t-ted with stars." With this declared Chat's hands are clasped together and squished against his tilted cheek.

Ladybug snickered, "That one was a bit wordy Chat Noir."

"Hey they can't all be tens."

"I'd settle for threes."

It was perfect and fun, and the world was perfect.

"But seriously Chat Noir there's something important we need to discuss."

The world was a little less perfect. "I'm all ears M'Lady," Chat replied, rising one leather ear up and toward Ladybug.

Chat Noir watched as Ladybugs lips began to curl, her nose scrunched, her eyebrows dipped, she was angry.

"It's about Chloe."

"Chloe?" Chat asked in confusion. He knew which Chloe she was talking about. There was only one Chloe that both superheroes interacted with on a regular basis while in costume. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, but just what did Ladybug want to do about it?

"Yes Chloe!" Ladybug said in a controlled shout, "She is the cause of 52% of the Akumas. Look I've checked." With jerky flourished movements Ladybug produced a piece of paper that had been folded and stored within her yo-yo. Chat Noir obediently took the offered paper. It looked like a sort of table, with names of the past Akuma within the right boxes, and a short three-word answer of either the name of who was at fault, or the causation, in the left boxes. At the bottom of the page was a singled-out box containing _Chloe=126 Akuma._ The box was highlighted in pink, then was highlighted in green around the pink, then a brighter pink highlighter added devil horns that decorated the top of the box.

Ooooh boy.

"We have been fighting Hawkmoth for eight months, and this is the damage that one girl has caused. Even if sometimes it was only indirectly. Hawkmoth is obviously targeting her in some way, probably because she's famous. A famous brat." The last word was spat out.

…Ooooooooh boy.

Chat Noir squinted at the page, "Hey wasn't this guy caused by the mayor?" Char Noir asked, pointing his clawed nail at an Akuma called, LennyLasso."

"Obviously the mayor only bullied him about his American cowboy show because of Chloe, he wouldn't just do that for no reason. Besides I heard Chloe complaining about hating cowboys, it must have been because of her."

Chat Noir wasn't so sure.

"What about Princess Fragrance. She only wanted to impress that Prince Ali guy, Chloe just so happen to be nearby."

Ladybug sputtered, "The girl who was Princess Fragrance is in her class, and I'm sure I saw…"

"Saw what?"

"Never mind, the point is that she must have done something to cause it. I just know it."

" _Hmmm_ , well maybe."

"I thought about talking to her, but she just never listens. We can't take her to the authorities, that would be just, wrong," Ladybug sighed, taking the paper back from Chat, "Still at least this gives us a pattern."

Chat nodded soothingly, "That it does, but what are we going to do about it? It's not like watching her will do much, other than possibly seeing which direction we catch a fluttering light up butterfly approaching, it won't help much, and we have no guarantee that the butterflies aren't taking the scenic route to get to their target. It's not worth the time it would take away from our civilian lives to do regular stake-outs, though I don't mind checking in on her occasionally during my patrols."

Ladybug bit her lip, "You're right, there really isn't much we can do. Though if I could get my hands on a mini microphone/tracking device, I'd have one attached to that girl pronto."

Chat gasped, "M'lady, you'd spy on someone?"

Ladybug giggled and waved her hand dismissively at Chat Noir, "I don't know. It would sure make tracking Akumas before they start rampaging easier, but I'll never have to find out. Those devices are expensive, no way do I have the money to buy something like that. Even if it is for the good of all of Paris."

Chat Noir gulped, " _Hahaha_ , no way could we spend that much money. That would be crazy." The end of his leather tail clinked against the roof as the confounded thing flicked. Chat looked away, still smiling crazily.

"Yeah," Ladybug sighed plopping herself soundly down onto the side of the building, her elbows were on her knees and her chin in her hands, "Ya' know, sometimes I get so tired of this Chat."

Two leather ears lowered, "What do you mean?"

She smiled sadly at him, "I'm proud of being a hero. But just yesterday I had to ditch my friends, last Tuesday I had to pretend to be mad at my maman just so I could get to my room and transform, and she never deserves that. My designing keeps getting interrupted, I just want to finish a shirt this week, is that too much to ask?"

It wasn't too much to ask, but he didn't understand.

The two of them settled themselves down atop the roof, feet dangling and kicking. "We'll stop him Ladybug don't you worry, you'll be t-a-i-l-oring new clothes in no time."

Ladybug groaned, "Not if you don't keep your eye on the prize chat."

Chat laughed, "Maybe, but for you I'll do it. For you I'll end all of it."

"How sweet," Ladybug said absentmindedly, her gaze and brain far away and staring at Paris.

He still didn't understand, he loved this, even the pain it caused. So no, he didn't understand, but he could give her a shirt. He'd give her enough time to make all the shirts in the world.

* * *

Adrien allows himself his pre-father facing deep breath before opening the office door and gliding inside. When he was younger, he recalled little chants he used to perform in preparation of seeing his father. ' _Keep your back straight Adrien. Keep your head high Adrien. Keep your tongue in Adrien.'_ He's been alive enough years now that he didn't have to remind himself of these social ques when meeting with his father or when attending a gala. Now it was more of a problem to stop doing them at school, where such things are looked down upon.

…The world is weird.

He stops in front of his father's standing desk and clasps his hands behind his back. His father looks up and meets his eyes in a sign of acknowledgment, before looking back down at his touch screen computer, continuing his work. Fighting the urge to rock slightly on his heels Adrien spent this moment of silence to study his father's office. He searches the gilded peacock inspired portrait of his mom, and studies the many, many, pictures of his own modeling endeavors. Once when his father wasn't home, he had showed Nino his father's office. Nino agreed with Adrien that the painting of his mom was beautiful, but he also said that all the pictures of him were weird. Adrien had asked him why, after all isn't it normal for parents to have pictures of their kids? Nino replied that _'Well yeah,'_ but then he just sighed and looked back at the many pictures of Adrien, _'Just not like that,'_ he had whispered in a depressed tone.

Adrien didn't really get it, but he assumed it was because of the amount of pictures. He also further assumed that the world was still, just weird. After all when he was older his whole office was going to be decorated in pictures of his family.

He couldn't wait.

"Adrien how was your day yesterday?" his father suddenly asks, snapping him out of his beautiful, red and black spotted wife, reverie.

How as his day? Oh wow!

Adrien's eyes shine with delight, his smile plain and real. His father was asking about his day, he had called him in here to ask about his day! He knew it, he just knew that his father was getting better. Adrien was so proud of him, for finally getting past mom. He wondered if his father might even be willing to get rid of that awfully depressing painting that hung over the stairs. After all Adrien was starting to get the sense that his father isn't the kind of man who should be reminded of his dead wife very often.

"Yesterday was a good day Pѐre," Adrien answers, his tone delighted. "In physics we're starting to learn about the relation of movement through space in comparison to Earth. It's really interesting, I'll _um_ , I'll tell you about it later. Right now I, well, I've been meaning to ask you some things."

" _Hmmmmm_ ," His father replies, actually looking at Adrien and raising one eyebrow in question. Adrien inwardly squealed, his father was looking him in the eye! He couldn't believe all of this progress. He was starting to have a suspicion that his father was seeing a therapist behind his back. There was no better time to make his case then now, when his father was in such a good mood.

"You see I've been thinking and I'm not sure that I want to do fencing anymore. I think I'd prefer to do something else, like karate, something that can really help me defend myself."

Gabriel continues to stare, continues to give him eye contact, it was a good sign.

"In fact, there are a lot of things that I think I could be doing with my time that would be a lot more productive," Adrien continues, his voice getting fast and higher in his excitement, "I mean how useful is modeling really. There's no point in doing it anymore, and if I'm not modeling than I won't have to go to the tanning salon, or all those other time-consuming places. Instead I was thinking that I should be taking a class to learn more about business or something instead, so I can learn how to help with the company. And I'm already completely fluent in Chinese and English. I really only have to study those maybe once a week to stay sharp. And piano has always been kind of-"

His father raises one hand, a gesture for silence, Adrien clamps his mouth shut. He felt his very pale cheeks heat in embarrassment. He had let himself ramble, his father hated rambling!

His father steps away and to the side of his desk, his own hands clasped behind his back as he stares dispassionately at his son, but Adrien knew that he always stared like that, no big deal. "Adrien where were you yesterday at three pm?"

Ok, big deal, very big deal.

 _'_ _Saving Paris from a, I-must-feed-the-park-squirrels, Akuma,'_ Adrien thought to himself, " _Uhhhh_ ," is what he says.

"Because where you weren't," his father continues, "was at your photoshoot."

"Wait a minute," Adrien says, grateful that he has an excuse for this one, "That photoshoot was already supposed to be done at two-thirty. I told the director that I was leaving so I could get back to class."

"So you could get back to PE!" His father booms, and in this large empty room of one computer, chairs, and many pictures, it felt like a boom. Adrien straightens his arms out as he jumps, his eyes wide in the familiar child-like fear, of a scolded boy.

"Do you think me thick Adrien? I looked at your schedule. You left your photoshoot before the photographer was ready to release you, so that you could get back to PE? Is this what I agreed to, is this the priorities I allowed you to possess by letting you go to that school?"

Adrien felt his throat tighten, felt his teeth begin chattering inside his clamped shut mouth, _'Please no,'_ he silently begs, _'don't take away school.'_

"And now this, this disgraceful display of what you think is best? Knowing more about becoming ready for the industry than the man who created this business? Disregarding every accomplishment and award wrought by your skill in fencing for your own whimsy ideas. It is pathetic," his father spat. The tremble had reached Adrien's arms. "I don't like the ideals this school is giving you, do you understand me?"

Adrien nods numbly.

"I won't have it, not anymore," with a single hand and his back still straight Gabriel points at a single chair, sitting alone in one corner of the room, opposite the pictures of himself and his golden mother. "Now sit."

Adrien looks at the decorated wooden chair that he hasn't seen in years, "What? Pѐre, we haven't had to do this in years, I'm too old to-"

A fist slams onto his father's glassy looking, but actually plastic, desk. The resulting _bam_ used to be louder when his father's desk was wooden, Adrien jumps like he's been bitten anyways, "Sit down now Adrien!" It is an order, it is a shout.

Adrien hurries over and sits.

Not a moment later a picture of a posing blond boy with green eyes comes flying across the room, the frame shatters to Adrien's right. Adrien flinches and cowers himself more towards the left of his chair, closing his eyes tight against any possible incoming bits of glass. Adrien holds his head down and shakes as another crash echoes through the room, and again as a knick-knack on his father's desk hits the floor and shatters.

Adrien tries not to cry.

After breaking half the frames and all of his, apparently pointless, desktop glassware, his father goes back to his computer and continues messing about with his screen. Every once and awhile he stops to throw another frame filled with the perfected face of his disobedient son, before going back to his work. Adrien flinches with every frame that brakes near him, it seemed like every time he was about to calm down his shaking limbs his father was able to sense it, and would throw another glass peace in his general direction.

It is a game that Adrien had hoped he would never have to play again.

This is how his father lets out steam, by throwing his things. Adrien knew that somewhere in this house was a hundred replacement knick-knacks, frames, and art pieces. Ready to replace anything that the man destroyed. Still, it was scary enough hearing the crashes from his room, knowing that on some days he was the cause. Being only spaces away from the same destruction, is entirely different.

The chair used to be a punishment for him as a kid. But it had stopped after mom disappeared two years ago. He had hoped it would never come back.

Another crash, glittered sharp pieces of glass flew forward, landing prettily at his feet, Adrien lifts his sneakered shoes in alarm.

This feels worse than before.

After twenty minutes Adrien had taken up a reasonably comfortable position, with his hands gripping the edges of his chair and his ankles crossed. He makes sure to keep his head up and alert, determined not to be caught off guard by the next projectile. He eventually makes it to a point where he only flinches at the closest of his father's shots.

It takes another thirty minutes, a whole hour, of mostly sitting and fighting off his increased adrenaline before Adrien was told to _'Get out.'_

He oh so did.

He crunches glass beneath his tennis shoes as he flees. Nathalie doesn't say anything to him as he passes her standing right outside his father's office, tapping away at her tablet. Adrien trips once getting up the stairs to his room, his shin hitting the stair's edge as his shoe slides off one step. Cursing his shaking legs he forces himself up and up, and into his room. He closes the door behind him.

Adrien leans his back against his closed door and calms his breaths, it had been cold in his father's office, and Adrien relishes in the slightly warmer temperature of his own room. Plagg comes flying out of his jacket pocket, looking at his kitten with narrowed eyes.

"Ohhh yeah, your Pѐre's doing oh so much better," the cat Kwami scoffs sarcastically.

Adrien lets out a shaky cough, which ends in a sort of strangled chuckle. " _Um_ , yes well, looks like I was a little mistaken about the whole, getting healthier thing."

Plagg flies closer and touches one paw to the boy's cheek.

"But that doesn't change all the progress that he's made lately. It doesn't mean he isn't still doing better. There are always going to be setbacks. He still let me go to that music festival, and he played piano with me."

Plagg hit his forehead against Adrien's cheek.

"And he still watched mom's movie with me. Today must just be an off day, everyone has those."

Adrien has a feeling he's rambling again.

"Adrien," Plagg says.

Looks like Plagg thinks so to.

"C'mon let's play racing wars three. I know you're getting better at playing with all your paws, you might even get close to beating me this time."

Plagg floats back a space to let his boy walk down the stairs into his room and maneuver his way to his gaming machine. The tiny god flies in closer as the boy picks up his console controller, checking the batteries like he always does to make sure that it's ready for Plagg. Adrien fumbles and fails twice to get the back of the controller open before Plagg sits himself atop Adrien's hand.

It is shaking.

"Adrien," Plagg says again.

"No wait Plagg," Adrien says in tonal desperation, straitening his arms out and keeping Plagg as far away from him as possible, "There's no need to get like this. I-I'm just young, and emotional. He would never really hurt me. It's just this young body that's not taking this well, if I was older and more mature than I'd, I'd-"

Adrien chokes and gulps back his remaining words, not even knowing what the words were really going to be anyways. He regards his Kwami still resting patiently upon his hand in something close to resigned confusion.

"It's ok to be upset," his Kwami finishes.

 _'_ _Oh good,'_ Adrien thinks sillily to himself. Then he starts to cry. Not loudly, but long. He holds his Kwami and his controller, and cries. Cursing himself for being more afraid of his father, who has never actually hit him with any piece of glass, than a rampaging Akuma.

* * *

That night Plagg talks the kid into getting some good 'ol Chat Noir air. It did a world of good. His kitten whooped and hollered in a show of joy that even Tikki's girl couldn't produce.

After the run Adrien finds a perfect building just asking to be sat upon. So, while boldly taking a sip of _borrowed_ wine that had been left out on a balcony, he sits and looks around. The city is busy, bright, and peaceful. All thanks to Ladybug, and to him. He wonders if his father would be proud of him if he knew, if he only knew that his disappointment of a son was actually good enough to be chosen as a protector of Paris. Oh his father would be furious if he ever found out, but maybe, just maybe, he'd also be sorta' proud. Chat Noir sticks out his tongue and puts down the wine, because it really does taste awful. He looks out and up, angling his head around until he has placed the city and the stars above in equal alignment with his eyes. This would've been a perfect skyscraper photograph. He could even see the Eiffel Tower and Chloe's hotel room from here.

Adrien lifts a hand to his mask, this mask that really is one of the only things he is truly proud of. He tugs the glued-on leather playfully, pulling at his face as his make-believe camera eyes focus in on a particularly big window. The window of Chloe Bourgeois.

He lets go of his mask.

* * *

Plagg wakes up to the fabric fluttering destruction of model boy's closet. The Kwami blinks once, twice, but with every blink the size of the pile of clothes outside his boy's closet only gets bigger. Since it doesn't help to try and make sense of nonsense Plagg decides to stop blinking, he doesn't need to anyways, he is a god.

"Adrien?" Plagg questions as he flies into the closet, having to dodge a pair of jeans that the blond had tossed through the air. The Adrien in question ignores his Kwami, in favor of groping inside a drawer that is much to deep to be for normal underwear, the kid's arms and head is lost inside his opened dresser.

Plagg groans, "Kid, why do you have to be so weird!"

Adrien pauses and pops his head back up, "Hey Plagg, didn't see you there," now his arms reappear holding another blue pair of pants, "Incoming."

Plagg dodges the second pair of pants thrown his way, his face is unamused. "What in cheese-nation are you doing?"

Adrien beams, he beams the beam that has burned the face and loins of every girl who has ever laid eyes on the happy guy. Plagg is suspicious.

"I'm not giving up Plagg, father might not let me be a better Chat Noir, but that won't stop me! You'll see, I'll find a way to train, I'll read books about battle strategies, but best of all, I've thought of a way to help us in the war against Hawkmoth."

Adrien looks giddy in his delight, and if it isn't for the fact that Plagg knows exactly what just happened to this kid yesterday, Plagg might have thought of it as normal happiness. Instead to him his kitten looks slightly hysterical.

Plagg had been expecting something. His kitten was a chosen of destruction, and destruction does not sit around and mope. It does things, it destroys boundaries and fears. So he knew Adrien was going to find some way to cope, whether it would make sense to anyone else or not. It looks like Adrien has found his poison, a way to both help his fellow Parisians, and to simultaneously go against his father all at once.

It was so very Adrien.

"Oooh yeah," Plagg drawls, "and what is this great idea then?"

Adrien beams again, and somewhere another teenage girl has lost her panties, "Glad you asked Plagg, because it's time we did something about Chloe."

Plagg blinks unnecessarily, "Chloe?"

"Yup!"

Plagg regrets everything.

* * *

"Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay," Chat Noir says. He titters his body one way, then another, frantically balancing the pile of boxes in his arms. "C'mon, you can do this. You're an Agreste, and an Agreste can do anything!" With two last cheek bloating puffs of air Chat jumps from one building and onto the balcony of his target, all without dropping a single box. The huge glass doors of the balcony give a clear view into his target's room. He's looking into the part of the room without the bed.

After putting his arm load down Chat Noir easily fingers the lock open with the claw of his pointer finger, and slides the door open.

"Hellooo, I'm here for a heroic, totally kind of legal, break iiin!" Chat whisper shouts through the empty room.

With his super cat ears he hears Chloe gasp and roll/flail, herself off her bed in her haste to get to him. There's a repeated phrase of _'Ohmygod, ohmygod,_ ' and squeals of excitement before Chloe appears through the second room's entryway.

She is wearing her pajamas, thank goodness, they're a surprisingly simple design. A plain bright yellow long sleeve and pant combo, with nothing adorning the set but a line of slightly darker buttons down the front of the shirt. If it isn't for the way the light reflects off the obviously silk material it would've looked like something any girl would wear. Chloe is quick to ruin the normal girl image though, as she pulls on a, much to fluffy, white bath robe. A robe that Chat Noir assumes she had snatched from where it often hung off one of the wooden beams of her bed. Chat Noir happens to know that when alone Chloe is prone to strutting around her large room completely in the buff, a fact she presented proudly to Adrien. Which means that there is little point in bathrobes staying in the bathroom.

The droop of her face when she lays eyes on just him happens so fast and so completely that Chat is actually rather impressed. "Oh, it's just you," Chloe sniffs flicking her hair back and turning towards her coach.

Oooh, scathing.

Chat feels his grin widen. He closes the glass door behind him.

Knowing this game Chat clasps his hands behind his back and starts rocking on his feet, back and forth, from the toes to the balls of his heels. The trick to innocence, and subservience, is making the other person think they're better. It makes Chloe an easy target, she does half the work for you anyways. "Don't you worry Chloe, I'm here on behalf of Ladybug. We... I mean she, really needs your help. She asked for you specifically."

Her dark ocean blue eyes light up, "Ladybug wants my help? Me, really?" These questions end with a loud sequel of delight that makes Chat's leather ears lower in distaste. The blond girl kicks her slippered feet in joy, bringing her fisted hands to her mouth in delight.

Chat grins a soft grin.

This is what he had loved about Chloe, what made her such a fun friend as a kid. When kid Chloe was happy, she was happy with everything she had, and when she was angry well…

It's just a shame that now, she is always angry.

"Yeeeup, so here's what we need to do," Chat says, lowering his voice conspiratorially. He slinks over to her couch and sits on the other end. "You and me need to work together to stop you from making so many Akuma."

…There is silence.

"What?" Chloe asks in genuine bratty confusion.

Without a word Chat Noir brings out a similar looking list, without the added highlighter décor, and hands it to his old friend. "Here's a list of all the Akuma thus far, including those caused by a Chloe Bourgeois. It's quite the pattern really, and do you know what that means?"

Chloe glares.

"It means that Hawk Moth is targeting you."

Chloe blinks, her glare gone.

"Don't you see Chloe? This is Ladybug's big chance. We have a pattern and you," Chat says, reaching out and gripping her hands in support and happiness, "are the pattern. If we get him to stop targeting you, that means that he may target someone else for the brunt of his Akuma attacks. Then we can see if he targeted you just because you are famous, or if you are someone that he actually knew beforehand. He clearly wanted someone who could supply the Akuma that he needs without having to search through all of Paris. He is focusing on people near you Chloe. Which means that he has created a pattern of location. But that could be just to throw us off. If you help us, and he changes targets, then we'll have a new pattern to go off of. New clues and angles to investigate. You could help Ladybug save all of Paris!"

His speech done Chat throws his hands up happily and dramatically, just like he knows Chloe can be. The girl in question, simply gaps.

"You mean, I could save all of Paris?" She asks. Chat's head nods vigorously, "And I could help Ladybug." Another boyish blond hair flying nod. "Well then," she huffs, turning her glare on, "I'll do it then, for Ladybug! It's worth it to get Hawkmoth out of my hair and personal space." Nose in air she looks about her, as if the man was watching her right now.

Maybe he is.

Chat keeps his grin, "But Chloe it isn't about what you can do to stop Hawkmoth. It's what we can do."

She looks at him from the corners of her shifty eyes, "What do you mean?"

With a hop and the noiseless running of his magic boots Chat speeds over to her balcony door and opens it, letting in the cold night air. Chloe gives a little _'Eeeee,'_ of displeasure, and wraps her bathrobe more tightly about her. "You mangy Cat! Close that now!" And Chat does. With the heel of his boot as he walks back inside after collecting the stack he had left sitting on Chloe's deck. A stack of both old and new, but all never before opened, multi-player board games. Chat pops his head sideways out from where it was hidden behind the pile of games, his cat-like eyes are dilated wide in childish delight. "We play board games Chloe. That's how we stop him. Now what do you like more? Strategy games, or luck-based?"

* * *

When Adrien was little his favorite game to play with Chloe was twister. He loved how such a girly girl like his blond friend would become so competitive and make herself look ridiculous, just for the sake of beating him.

The Chloe of his teenage hood refused to even consider looking at the game. But that was ok with Chat Noir, because she did in fact play his games. Chat Noir began to go to her house every other night, late, and she never complained.

Well, she never complained about the late hour, she made a point to complain of everything else. She complained about his fighting style, the lack of Ladybug, his inability to not get possessed or beat up, his hair, his tacky suit, her own coach, the hotels security, his choice of games, where Ladybug was, and honestly at this point the list was too long for him to care about keeping track.

Chat Noir brushed it off, with all the grace of an Adrien. It was always hard to take her insults seriously, even when she directed them at other people. Sometimes he wasn't sure why the other kids in his class got so upset. Of course Adrien stepped in once Chloe went overboard in her bullying of the class, but a lot of the time he was puzzled about why he had to, and why sometimes Nino looked at him as if he was expecting him stop her. Chloe was heartless and mean, all the time. So why did she still make girls cry and boys turn Akuma just through her insults. He feels angry during the moment of her cruelty, but after all is said and done, why do they keep taking her seriously enough to be hurt. It isn't like her insults are clever, or even true eighty percent of the time. Chloe isn't someone to trust or scold, for she isn't someone to even consider believing.

But these were harsh thoughts, things Adrien would shake out of his head when they appeared, for what leg could he possibly have to stand on. Chloe never bullied him.

Well she did now, she treats Chat Noir with all the dignity and respect that she grants her classmates.

It was still hard to believe her mean words. He noticed offhandedly while on his third visit, that it was a similar numbness that he had around his father. Huh.

Either way Adrien had a job to do. Become friends with a Chloe Bourgeois and make her into a nicer person! As long as she kept letting him into her room for another round of Belote, he'd keep trying.

"Wouldn't you have more of an effect on her if you told her all of this as Adrien?" Plagg asks him one day. The little god was on top of Adrien's controller, practicing using his tail to move the joystick while his paws tapped buttons. A plate of camembert sat half eaten next to him. A reward for him, if he ever managed to win a race. Meanwhile Adrien is lying on his coach, holding a physics book up to his eyes, he lays the book upon his model chiseled chest and regards the butt of his wiggling gaming Kwami. " _Uh_ well yeah, of course I'd have more of an effect," Adrien answers honestly.

Plagg grunts a reply, eyes never leaving his game, "Than why don't you? One request from her _Adrikins_ asking her to be nicer had her holding a huge party for the class. You've made this way harder than it needs to be. It's not like it isn't common knowledge that she causes these Akumas. Have her actual friend deal with it."

" _Hehheh_ , _awww_ , no."

Plagg gives a whoop of glee as the number four flashes across his screen. One Kwami flip of happiness through the air later and he tackles his cheese.

Fourth place was close enough to winning in his cheese book.

" _Mmmm_ , got a good reason for that kid?" Plagg questions rubbing his inflated cat belly.

Adrien chuckles at the sight, "Oh Plagg, it won't mean anything if she changes for Adrien. If Adrien asks her to she'll just try to be nicer in my presence. Which isn't really that often. Chat has a chance of making her change for good."

Plagg snorts, "You're living in a dream world kid."

Adrien smiles, bringing his physics book back up for optimal personal viewing. "Maybe," he whispers, "but Chat isn't going to give up on her. And that's gonna make all the difference."

Plagg left the kid alone after that to get back to his game. He didn't voice his opinions. He knew that a little fake flirting from Adrien and a couple false romantic promises would get the girl doing everything in her power to never cause another Akuma, at least until Adrien was her husband. Plagg didn't voice his opinion that if Adrien was serious about becoming a more involved Chat Noir for the good of all of Paris, then he'd break that horrid girl's heart. Keeping her hoping until the day Ladybug and his Chosen defeated Hawk Moth, before pushing her away. But Plagg knew that such a plan hadn't even registered in his Chosen's mind. Instead Adrien's idea of being a more active hero is by constantly being insulted while playing board games with a vicious brat. It's a childish notion of giving help through his own needs of friendship and kindness. That isn't enough for humans though. Chloe won't just change from this.

In Adrien's mind his solution of being a better Chat Noir is, in a way, to be more logical, more serious in his super hero endeavors, like Ladybug. But Plagg doubts that, no matter how many physic books his kitten reads, he'll ever be good at logic.

* * *

"Adrien if I allow this, I must be given certainty that it will not effect your performance as this school's top fencer."

"I won't let you down Mr. D'Argencourt I promise. But I think learning how to really defend myself will make me feel more comfortable, and it may make my Pѐre feel safer about me going out."

"Alright then, I can see your determination, I like that in a young lad. Here's the address of that bo' staff expert. He isn't far from the school, I'm sure your Pѐre can arrange a ride for you. He doesn't have a studio anymore, but he may still be willing to train you, and I recommend him personally."

"Awesome, I can't thank you enough."

"You can thank me by being here for every practice beyond Tuesday and Thursday. Remember I refuse to give more than two days a week to this endeavor."

"Two days is more than enough, I'll let my Pѐre know."

"Yes, do that _before_ you contact monsieur Talbot."

"I will."

* * *

"Hey Plagg I never thought about this before, but do Akuma's have a time limit?"

"What _pfft_ no, I think we would have noticed that by now."

"Oh, so what's Hawk Moths Kwami's special ability?"

" _Uhhh_ making Akuma, _duuuh_."

"That's it?"

" _Hmmm_ well just about."

"So why doesn't Hawkmoth have a time limit after using his powers and we do?"

"Oh that, well Hawk Moth's just better than you I guess."

"What!"

"Yeah, tough break huh, hey you gonna keep wearing that sock?"

"Plagg this is important! Ladybug and I need to get that good."

"Oh really."

"Yes really, please Plagg, show me how I can use cataclysm and not have to transform."

"Kid I don't think you understand, that could take a while."

"This whole fight with Hawk Moth is taking a while."

" _Hmmmm_ 'k point. Alright you've convinced me. Throw in an extra camembert a day and you got a deal."

"Yes!"

" _Heh heh_ , yes indeed."

"So how do I start?"

" _Hmmmm_ , here take this."

"A pen."

"Yeah, now try to break that pen."

" _Uuuh_ can I throw it."

"Nope, just hold it, and no cataclysm."

"Shouldn't I be transformed for this?"

"Hey, you've got the ring? What more do you want."

"Instructions?"

"Oh well, just try meditating or something, I'm sure you'll get it. In the meantime, no one needs socks on to meditate. Gimme."

* * *

"Adrien."

"Yes Natalie?"

"Your Pѐre would like to see you."

"Oh, ok I'll be right there."

* * *

It's a Wednesday, and Adrien spent an hour of it fighting a recently arrested pick-pocketing Akuma, and another hour after school in the chair. His father didn't throw anything, didn't even give an explanation. He simply had Nathalie send for Adrien, then pointed at the chair the moment the boy was about to gather the nerve to ask why he was here.

Adrien walked to said chair with a blush covering his cheeks. The pink hue stayed for twenty minutes into his time-out, before slipping away into confusion. He never found out what he had done, if his father thinks that he's smart enough to figure it out by his own means, then he's mistaken.

He leaves for Chloe's a little earlier than usual. Mostly because he doesn't want to go today. He's good at taking Chloe's punishing tongue, but he's only human. Not taking what she says seriously doesn't mean you don't get annoyed after two hours of being her only target. However, this was the start of his test, he knew from the beginning that this, be-a-better-superhero business, wasn't going to be easy. He can't let such a small annoyance get in the way of his goal! Besides he figures that some of what she says may be good for him to hear. Sure Chloe doesn't know what she is talking about when she insults him, not really, but some of it he knows is partially true. Chat Noir is a lesser hero, even Ladybug and Master Fu agree. It's why the master waited so long to tell him about his presence. Because somewhere along the way, or even from the very beginning, Chat Noir had lost their trust. It's good for him to remember that, it'll help him stay goal oriented.

So he definitely can't let up on Chloe, if he succeeds in changing her than this could be a game changer. It would be something that Ladybug and Master Fu would have to be impressed by. In fact even his father would praise him for this, if he knew. You know, after grounding him for life.

Chat lands four limbs first on Chloe's balcony, breathing deeply if only so he could savor the fresh night air. He knocks three times before opening the unlocked balcony doors. "I appreciate not having to pick the lock today Chlo', makes life so much easier for this Chat."

A girly ' _hmph_ ,' comes from the other room, Chat grins.

Chloe marches into the room in another new pair of pajamas, Chat has counted ten different ones by now. One new one for each of his visits so far. This one is a strangely sensual deep silky red, with short sleeves and long pants of the same solid red. Small black swirls, that turn out to be the outlining of roses, run about randomly on the silk's cloth.

"Where's Ladybug?" Chloe demands.

Aww here we go. She asks the same question every time he comes over. Chat smirks like he always does. "She can't make it. But that doesn't mean that we aren't going to have a fan-cat-stic time playing-"

"Well when is she going to make it?" Chloe screeches, cutting Chat off mid-sentence. Chat blinks in surprise, she had never snapped with real anger before about Ladybug's whereabouts.

" _Uhhhh_ well."

"Why doesn't she come visit me? Doesn't she care! I am Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of the mayor of Paris! And you're telling me that my friend doesn't have enough time to visit me!"

She's screeching her anger to the heavens. Chat gulps, he suspects that someone else had a bad day to.

"It isn't exactly like that."

"This is your fault isn't it?"

 _Uh oh._

"Wha-?" Chat starts.

"You're telling her aren't you? You're telling her to stay away so that you can have me all to yourself because you're a selfish, worthless, lonely feline! You're making me do all this work in the so called, 'name of Ladybug,' yet you won't even let her see me!"

"Chloe calm down!" Chat whisper shouts back, "For god's sake, she doesn't know ok."

Chloe gasps, it's dramatic and back leaning, and so Chloe, "You lied to me?"

"No I didn't," Chat says knowing where this is going. "This will help Ladybug. She just can't be here. She has a human life of her own Chloe, one that she cherishes and protects with a passion. And I just didn't want to disturb that."

"You're telling me," Chloe begins marching towards Chat Noir. Her eyes flashing an angry fire of blue. "That I've been working so hard, and putting up with your insufferable presence, for the sake of _you_?"

" _Wha_ , no Chloe for the sake of Paris."

"How dare you! How dare you make me think I was actually doing this for someone that matters!"

"Chloe stop-"

"This isn't fair! Why do I have to do all of this while Ladybug gets to sit at home in bed!"

"Chlo-"

"As if it's my fault that Hawk Moth is after poor little me. I'm the victim here, and I have to suffer for it? It isn't fair!"

"You know what I'm sorry!" It's a shout, a squeaky pubescent shout of someone who isn't good at yelling. But Chloe's mouth shuts, her eyes flashing a gleam of victory, but only for a moment. "I truly am sorry ok!" Chat continues, "Because your right this isn't fair, this isn't fair at all! It isn't fair that you have to change because a madman is stalking you and we have no other ideas on how to make him stop! You think I want to make you change for this? I don't like making even the meanest people go through this Chloe, because change hurts, even if you should change it hurts. And I know that." Images of a man in silly red pants and his back turned flashes past his mind, followed by a woman with wind swept long blond locks, always walking away from the park. "So I'm sorry, I'm sorry that there's a madman out there and we need help. I'm so sorry this is your reality and that I'm here, asking this of you, because this isn't how change should happen. So you know what!" Chat shouts moving up into her space like a Chloe on Adrien and leaning in. She doesn't lean back. "This change doesn't have to be permanent, not if you don't want it to be. We just need to take whatever advantage Hawk Moth gets from stalking you, and shove it up his ass."

Her eyes widen. Chat isn't sure if it was because of the cuss word, his almost evil smile, or if she was actually thinking. She looks away first, and Chat brings his face back, giving her space. "So," he says, "what do you think?"

She sniffs once. It wasn't a crying thing, it was a bratty thing. And since this is Chloe, Chat has no idea what that means, it could be anything.

"Shove it up his ass," the rich girl mumbles, biting one knuckle of her finger. She repeats the phrase like she's testing it out in her head, letting the implications of its new outlook to the situation sink in. She looks back to him, her chin high. "Let me make this clear cat-boy," She says getting her glare back on, "No one stalks Chloe Bourgeois and gets away with it. At least that part you got right."

Chat beams.

"But," she says standing up from her posh coach, hands on hips, "I'm so bored of these stupid games. Honestly can you come up with nothing else?"

Chat blinks, "Oh, _ummmm_."

"Get out," she snaps pointing towards her balcony window dramatically, "Get out now….Unless." She draws out the word, taping her perfectly filed nail against her poreless chin. "Unless we play what I want to play."

For the first time in some minutes Chat's heart finally slows. "Of-ofcourse. I mean that's only fair right. I can't be the only one picking what we do. As long as it isn't anything to crazy. Oh and I doubt that I'll be able to call Ladybug here so if that's what you were going to ask-"

"Shush up!" Chloe snaps, but her face is smiling, "Shush it and wait here."

So Chat does, making himself comfortable he plops himself onto her couch, bringing his legs up and crisscrossing them together at the ankle, he waits as Chloe hurries from the room and into the other portion of her hotel sweet. He takes this moment to calm himself, to take back his adrenaline and anger.

He hears her coming back before he sees her, he hears the sounds of plastics, fabrics, and glass clinking together in a dreadfully familiar ball of Chloe weaponry. She makes her way to Chat holding in her arms an ominous black bag full of the clinking contents. The bag was so big that her muscles had to strain to keep it still and hugged to her chest. She teetered a little under the bags weight, but Chloe's wide smile never leaves. "Unlike Ladybug you, Chat Noir, need a make-over."


End file.
